


The French Boy

by embersandturquoise



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Murder In Mind, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Care, Characters that find each other without any plan, Cute Timothée Chalamet, Drugs, Gay, Guys acted on their own, Hurt/Comfort, James Mcavoy - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, peach - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embersandturquoise/pseuds/embersandturquoise
Summary: Martin Vosper had been sober.But his past still haunts him.One night as he is on the verge of drowning again, a new guy appears in his flat.Timmy just wanted a flat with a nice mate.But life had other plans.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"He was good in pretending. He could stop this whenever he wanted. He had succeeded once already, he could do it again. But right now he didn´t see a reason. Why should he stop something that numbed everything he was afraid of, everything he wanted to forget, everything that made him feel sick and unwanted and not worth a shit? Still..."
Relationships: Martin Vosper/Timothée Chalamet
Kudos: 1





	1. On the edge

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Mentioning of drug use, withdrawal  
> \------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> This is another take on Martin Vosper from "Murder in Mind". The guy obviously haunts me. And then some other guy invaded the scene, I´ve no idea how that happened, but somehow they live in my mind, rent-free. So it started. Came out quite nice and as usual if there´s a Timothée involved, I couldn´t resist putting his nicest supporting actor in there - aka the peach... ;)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and leave kudos. Comments are very much appreciated. :*

**The French boy**

On the edge

Martin walked by the bench. The bench which had begun so many jobs for him. He shuddered – more from the vivid memories his brain threw at him than from the cold. At least now he had a place to live, a real flat not just a bedsit somewhere in a stinky, rundown house. And there were times when he succeeded to deal with his money quite good and then he could quasi pick his clients, wasn´t any longer pendant on any filthy stranger that came along to fuck him.

But he knew he was far from having his problems solved. Which was exactly why he was walking through the cold now, looking out for a nightly wanderer, hoping some nice guy came along and he could at least enjoy it a bit. He had spent his last servings; every month he tried anew and sometimes it went well, but the last month had been hard for him and he had not been able to resist. The temptation still was strong from time to time. He made himself believe it wasn´t a constant state, he wasn´t really “using” anymore, just once in a while and he didn´t do hard drugs, but that didn´t help him save money at all.

He really had tried, but with feelings coming back and not being able to fight them off, he quickly went back to what he knew best. And he truly believed that nothing on earth ever could make him feel better than that one perfect moment when a high kicked in, when he finally forgot all that had happened to him, literally forgot himself and who he was... this blissful, even peaceful state of mind where nothing was important anymore, where he was free... he was convinced, nothing else could get him there but drugs.

He was good in pretending. He could stop this whenever he wanted. He had succeeded once already, he could do it again. But right now he didn´t see a reason. Why should he stop something that numbed everything he was afraid of, everything he wanted to forget, everything that made him feel sick and unwanted and not worth a shit? Still...

Right now, with those thoughts running through his mind, he felt desperate for whatever he could lay his hands on. Even a nose full of cocaine. Or anything. Maybe he could get some more of those painkiller pills he had tried last time? They worked quickly and he hadn´t even had a headache the day after. He would need to visit that place again, far in the outskirts of the city. But how to get there?

His hands started trembling.

_Shit, he was running cold._

_He really needed to find someone._

_Now._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Timothée was giggling so hard he nearly fell off that creaking bed.

_A peach._

_Really – who would...?_

But then his giggling slowly died and turned into a smirk and he felt his cock stirring at the thought of juicy thick flesh around it.

_It wasn´t that sick, right?_

Gee, how he felt so naughty some days. He kicked the conflicting thoughts out of his brain and looked at the round appetizing shape of the sweet fruit. One couldn´t really look at this without thinking of the soft curve of nice arse cheeks.

_Anyone would, right?_

He began to giggle again and then he held the peach to his lips. Closed his eyes. Touched his tongue over the raw skin and his nipples stood up from the sensation.

_Oooh yes, he was inspired._

Maybe he shouldn´t really feel that inspired – here in an estranged flat, the owner of same not even present. Timothée had been given the address and keys by a mutual friend, who had emphasized how Martin would be too grateful for having a nice housemate, even more for one who´d be paying a considerable lease for staying here.

Timothée tried to imagine said Martin. The only thing he knew from their friend was he was about five years older and very handsome and obviously – gay.

Timothée moaned dreamily and eventually he brought the peach down over his chest and tummy, leaving trails of delicious juice on his skin and then dipped his throbbing hard cock right into the hole he had carved with removing the core.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin stumbled back into the house, barely able to move his feet over the steps of the stair. He kept swaying and shaking and before reaching his floor, his body was overwhelmed with the gravity... _fuuuuckkking greeevittttiii..._

His head hit the railing and for a second he felt clear enough to rise up again and bring the key into the keyhole. Once the door clapped shut behind him, Martin tumbled down and fell asleep like this, his face buried into the carpet, his jeans still showing signs of cum at the back, his shirt ripped apart at the hem.

He giggled in his sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a sound at the door. A muffled. Some giggling.

Timothée stopped moving for a second, but then he didn´t care. This just felt too good. It was cold yes, but sticky and fleshy and soft and wet and he was hot. He was so hot, he didn´t think about that he was fucking a peach actually, he imagined other things... He imagined to be deep into someone, someone beautiful, someone with the softest cheeks he had ever pulled apart to move his fingers in and then his cock and he fucked this someone, that perfect guy which existed only in his dreams. And in his daytime fantasies. In all the times he got himself off. This was just... heavenly.

He coughed and pumped his cock fervently in and out of that tiny hole now, getting closer... closer... _aaaah fuck, this was good... so good... yessss..._

He spurt out into the hole and his whole body reared up.

“Jesus fuck...”

He grinned at the sight. His cock was juicy and covered in orange flesh, glistening and the peach was filled with his cum, sticky up to the edge. He shook his head and cautiously put the fruit onto his nightstand, then licked his fingers clean.


	2. Martin´s a wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the next morning Timmy only wants to enjoy a shower. As Martin is terribly sick, Timmy cares for him.

**Martin´s a wreck**

_This guy doesn´t really seem to care a lot._

Timothée looked at his wristwatch. Nine a.m. and no sounds.

_What was the guy doing for a living at all? Not being here all night..._

He decided to take a shower and then help himself to some breakfast in town.

The bathroom was next to his room and there was another door leading in. Timothée assumed it lead to Martin´s room but he wouldn´t dare check. The cold water did the job to finally free his body from the last signs of having journeyed over here – and of course the leftovers of some fruit. He grinned while he washed away the orange flesh and his cock grew hard under his touching. The fucking flesh was everywhere. Timothée groaned. He was late, he should join some lessons at campus around ten, he couldn´t afford another wank now.

The door flew open and next thing he heard where the unsuspicious sound of somebody vomiting. Onto the floor as by the sounds.

_So much for morning erections..._

Timothée put the water out and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and looking down at the miserable figure on the ground. The guy was coughing and finally managed to heave himself up over the toilet where he once more threw up violently. Timothée´s stomach turned by the sounds and the smell was disgusting, but he felt for the tiny guy who seemed barely able to hold himself up there. He knelt down beside him, stroking wet dark locks from his face. He was sweating.

Martin tried to breathe and stop the nausea and the pain in his stomach. He groaned and nearly lost conscience again, when he felt a warm hand on his forehead.

He looked up.

Into the most mesmerizing green eyes he had ever seen.

“Hey... you must be Martin I presume?”

The guy looked like his face had been shaped out of marble. His jawline sharp and prominent, his cheeks high, dark locks... long locks... luscious lips...

Martin closed his eyes again and felt his stomach rebel.

He nodded.

“And you are?”

“Timothée. Call me Timmy. I´m your new housemate.”

_The guy had a strange accent._

Martin tried to remember. Yes, there had been some talk. Fuck, he had forgotten, this Timmy-guy was to arrive. Yesterday obviously. When he had been...

 _O God..._ the memories of last night flickered back into his mind.

He started gagging.

Timothée checked his wristwatch again. He would never make it in time. But he just couldn´t leave Martin here – like this.

_What was wrong with him?_

His clothes were sticky and... urghh, Timothée didn´t hope it was what he thought it was, there on the backpockets of Martin´s jeans.

When Martin raised his head up to look at him, Timmy was struck. The guy had the most handsome face he had ever seen. Beautiful big blue eyes, soft skin, freckles... lots of freckles... dark locks and his lips... his lips weren´t anything else than to be called luscious. His features were beautiful, he wasn´t just handsome, Martin was...

Timmy sucked the air in sharply.

He didn´t smell good though.

And he was throwing up again, the small body shaking under his efforts to get whatever it was out of his system.

He was pale and slim, not as skinny as he himself and although he was apparently feeling so sick, his clothes were very nicely emphasizing the shapes of his body. Timmy could see Martin´s nipples standing out under the fabric and his cock began to move under the towel.

_Jesus fucking Christ, the guy is sick and all I´m thinking off is how much I´d want to fuck him._

Timothée was ashamed of his strong sexual desire.

“You better put some clothes on; I can feel your cock in my back.”

Martin wasn´t shy of words. Timmy blushed and stood up.

“Err yes... Are you better?”

Martin sighed.

“How much better could I get.”

He let himself sink back to the cold floor and closed his eyes. Timmy flashed the toiled clean and went over to his room and got dressed.

Then he sat on his bed for a long time, listening for sounds from the bathroom. Would Martin be able to get up? Nothing happened, no sounds were to be heard but for some painful groaning and the shuffle of a body. Timmy stood up, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt anxious. What was the tiny guy doing in there? He couldn´t leave him like this, on the cold floor. What was wrong with him anyway? His ears nearly hurt from his efforts to gather any sound and he felt dizzy, but then...

Sobs... gasps...

Timmy felt his hear sink. He couldn´t... He had to look after him...

He pushed the handle down and opened the door just the tiniest bit.

Martin lay on the floor, rolled up into a ball, holding himself, sobbing and shaking from cold and pain and whatever else was bothering him. He occurred to be the saddest creature on earth in this moment and Tim was struck with compassion.

With long steps he went over and enfolded his arms around Martin, helping him up. Martin didn´t even notice what was happening to him, he was lost in his grief and tears were falling inexorable, wetting the already filthy tee. It wasn´t just outworn and filthy, it had tiny holes along the seams and the hem seemed to have recently been torn. Timmy swallowed by the thought what Martin might have been up to the last night.

With a bit of effort he lifted the guy up and although he was older, Martin did feel lighter than Timmy had expected him to be. Was he really that malnourished? Timmy carried Martin over and Martin had already enfolded his hands behind Tim´s neck, holding on to him strongly until Timmy gently put him down to the bed. His bed. He scratched his forehead but then he didn´t worry further. They guy needed sleep and comfort, whether in his own bed or this one. Martin immediately turned around and closed his eyes with a painful moan that shot fear through Tim´s body. He tugged him under the blanket and helped himself with another blanket and then he lay beside Martin, watching him in his sleep and wondering.


	3. Timothée has feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin recovers from the last night. Timothée finds he develops serious feelings for this guy. Martin makes an attempt and an offer.

Timothée has feelings

Martin woke up with his stomach hurting. In his head a steady beat was hammering. He groaned and rolled himself onto the side.

“Fuuuckkk...”

“Yes, very nice to see you again.”

Martin´s eyes flew open. The light blended him.

There were locks, dark tousled locks and green eyes, looking down at him.

_Gosh, the guy had lips... full and inviting..._

“Shit, my head hurts.”

“No wonder. And – if I may be impolite – you stink. You really need a shower.”

Timmy wrinkled his nose. That might not have been his smartest move.

Martin swallowed down the flight of anger that hit his chest. He sniffed around himself and had to admit, the boy was right.

“You´re a dick. First wanting to fuck me and now telling me this.”

Tim cocked an eyebrow.

“Let me put it like this: A shower might increase your chances.”

Martin looked up and his cheeks flushed.

_Gods, he is beautiful._

Tim bit his lips and suppressed a sigh. Martin smirked as he sat himself up.

“Am I lucky... You´re really gay?”

Tim shrugged his shoulders. Martin bowed over and caught sight of the peach that still sat on Tim´s nightstand. He furrowed his eyebrows and stood up. Walked over to look at the fruit closely.

“What have you done to this innocent thing?”

Now it was Tim´s turn to blush.

“Errr...”

Martin took the peach in his hand.

“Don´t...”

But it was too late. He had already understood. With a wide grin he placed the fruit back to where he had found it, very cautiously. Then he brought his face very closely to Tim´s.

“You´re naughty, very very naughty.”

Then he smirked again and went to the door. Tim gulped but inside his heart jumped.

Martin looked over his shoulder, his eyes beaming.

“I´ll get back to that after the shower.”

“Watch me...”

Tim let himself fall back onto his cushion and groaned. Why didn´t he put the peach away? Now Martin had seen it, filled up to the rim with his cum.

His cock twitched in his boxers.

“Again...?”

The bathroom-door had been shut close. The shower was turned on. He imagined Martin there, naked... pearls of water rolling down his soft skin...

“Nnnggg...”

He rolled himself onto his stomach and quick enough the sheets were wet.

Martin did take his time in the bathroom and when he returned, Timmy had already changed the bed sheets and put on new pants. Martin didn´t show any sign that he recognized any of it but Tim was quasi sure, the other guy knew.

He had only a towel slung around his waist.

Timmy had to turn his eyes away.

Yes, Martin was malnourished, he could see clearly now. But he was beautiful, his body more soft and round than the skinny bones he himself was carrying around. Tim had always been slightly uncomfortable with the way he looked – to thin, to skinny, to tall... and still he was conflicted with his body issues although most people told him how his features were special.

But Martin... he was slim, but toned, he looked fit and healthy and that although he obviously he was using drugs. Timothée shuddered by the sight of stitch marks along his arms. There were scars on his back also. Few hair around his nipples and in the area of his navel, dark locks trailing a way down to the only part of him that was covered right now.

“You´re staring, Timmy. So...”

Martin moved closer, slowly, and Timmy smelled his fragrance, now fresh and clean and earthy and mixing with the aroma of his shower gel – coconut... vanilla...

The sensation pulled a sweet little moan from Tim.

“I know... I felt your cock this morning. And I see the way you look at me.”

Martin chuckled.

“Does your cock taste peaches still?”

Timmy gasped.

“That... that was before...”

He gulped. Martin was so close now, he could barely feel the touch of his lips when he spoke. His breath sweet and warm on Tim´s cheeks. Tim closed his eyes and his mouth opened up, waiting for the other to reach out and...

Nothing.

Martin had backed away and looked down at Timothée, who sat open-mouthed, eyes half-lidded, his heart pumping with lust and arousal in his chest; not to speak of his groin where fire was burning yet again.

He shook his head. How come his body reacted like that of a horny teenager during those last days. What kind of charm was it?

Martin cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, curling his lips into a beautiful flirty smile.

“It´s thirty quid for a blowjob and for hundred you can get... the full service...”

His voice had dropped lower and Tim felt his body hair standing up. He was completely drawn to the manipulations of Martin.

“W-what?”

Had he just mentioned money for sex?

“You ... errr what?”

Martin stood confident, nevertheless could the towel not hide that he too was aroused. Something was moving under the fabric.

“Thirty quid for...”

started Martin to repeat, but Timmy interrupted him.

“Pardonnez-moi, mon ami. Je ne comprends pas.”

“Sorry?”

Timmy shook his head again.

“I don´t understand. I mean I´ve heard you want to sleep with me, but I shall pay you? Is that right?”

Martin nodded and shrugged.

“Yes. What did you think I do for a living?”

Suddenly it occurred to Timmy.

_Martin was a rent-boy._

“You... that is... so that was what you´ve been doing the other night? But why?”

“Isn´t that obvious?”

Martin made a face and from one second to the next all arousal was gone and they were back at the same point they had been in the morning.

“Okay, forget it.”

Martin turned to leave for his own room.

“W-wait... no... I mean... I can give you the money in advance. For the lease. If you need it so badly.”

Martin looked at him from sad eyes.

“I do.”

Timmy sighed deeply. Five minutes ago he thought they would end up fucking each others´ brains out on the very same mattress he had jerked off and now here he was, his heart low and his groin cold as ice. He stepped over to his bag pack and searched for his purse.

“Here...”

He held some notes to Martin, who nearly tore them from his hand, immediately counting.

“Fuck that´s...”

His eyes sparkled and he looked at Timmy, unbelieving.

“Thanks.”

“Martin...”

“Hm?”

“Don´t take the same shit you´ve had last night. Promise me.”

“Why?”

Timmy closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“Isn´t that obvious?”

Some minutes later Timothée heard the front door clap. Martin was gone. He sat on the bed, not exactly knowing what to do. All his lessons were finished by now. He wasn´t even sure if he would partake in any tomorrow. The feeling to watch over his housemate was too strong.

Timmy knew exactly what Martin was about to do.

Find the quickest way to some dealer and get himself whatever would make him high. He wasn´t much sure if Martin would consider his advice to be careful.

“I can´t believe I´m doing this...”

Timmy got up and put on his sneakers, took his coat from the wardrobe and grabbed his rucksack.


	4. I care for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter.  
> Martin is gone and Timmy goes after him.  
> Confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you guys for reading. Let me know your thoughts about this one. :*

I care for you

Martin was wandering through the empty streets.

This wasn´t the time to deal, he knew. Bright daylight. No one at their usual places.

But he needed something.

Anything.

Now.

_“Don´t take the same shit you´ve had tonight.”_

Timmy´s words echoed in his head.

_Why the fuck does he care?_

_What does he know?_

Martin felt anger rise suddenly.

Timmy had struck something on him. Besides his appearance which was – Martin sighed deeply – more than disturbing. In a very good way. But disturbing. Martin felt himself stir down there when he thought back of feeling Tim so close to him this morning.

“Fuck...”

For once in a lifetime it could have been great sex. Sex with someone he actually liked and desired. The boy seemed heartfelt and lovely and intelligent, he had the sweetest smile and his eyes... Martin gulped.

_Why had he refused?_

He had seen, Timmy wanted him too.

_So why?_

He breathed deeply and took his phone out, scrolled up to “Barry” and pressed “dial”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Timothée was taking turns. He had been quick, but not fast enough apparently. He had only a vague idea where Martin was heading to. But he had absolutely no idea about the places where one could buy drugs. How should he?

But then he remembered the note that had lain crumpled on the floor. He had picked it up when he had cleaned the bathroom after Martin fell asleep and stuck it into his pocket. He took the paper out and enfolded it. Martin´s handwriting was awful, but he was able to decipher the address.

And although he had told Martin not to repeat his mistake of yesterday, he hoped he would find him there.

Luck was with him that day. When he eventually arrived, he cursed though. He hadn´t taken anything with him. No money, no drinks, no food. Here he was in the outskirts of the city, hoping he´d find his way back. He wasn´t sure if he´d succeed in getting Martin out of here.

_Why would he anyway?_

_What exactly was he doing here?_

Running after a guy he barely knew, a guy who was clearly on the verge of destroying himself.

He sighed deeply and stood back in some entrance nearby, when a miserable looking man left the building. A huge cape pushed down over his forehead, but still Timmy was able to see the man´s pale features. Martin really looked like a fucking movie star compared to this guy, but still...

Half an hour went by and nothing happened. Timothée began to freeze and he ached for something to drink. Next time he should pack a bag in advance.

_Oh wow, planning a next time already. This guy really got to me..._

Finally the blue cracked wooden door opened again and Martin slurped out, his face a grimace of happiness, he was cackling and babbling to himself, almost tripping over the one step that lead to the pavement.

“Ah no...”

Timmy felt a twitch in his stomach.

_Am I really the right one for this job?_

He waited some moments then he started to walk and followed Martin with quick footsteps, until he drew level with him.

“Hey...”

Martin looked at him and Timmy felt another stitch. Martin´s eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, pupils dilated to a hilarious level; he looked like one of those gremlins in the movie he´d watched with his father some years back. He must be high as fuck.

“He...lllooooooooo cutiiiie...”

His voice though hadn´t lost its charm. In no way at all; Timmy felt his groin react and he scolded himself internally.

“Did I not tell you to make the same mistake again?”

“You wott?? Ah... heyyyy it´s yuuuu. Lovely Timmy, the French boy. Mmmmh...”

Martin hung himself to Timothée´s shoulder suddenly, his hand travelling to Timmy´s front.

“And he´s hard. Oh boiiiiii. You riiiiiley wont mi.”

_Ah fuck, yes. But not like that._

“Really Martin... why do you...? Come, let´s go home. You´re high as a kite.”

Martin started to sing as they walked the street and it took them a long time to get back again.

“An I nooo it´s gonnae biii a long long teeeeiiiiimmm...”

Timmy held him up and shook his head.

_What had he ridden himself into?_

Back at the flat, Timmy tugged Martin onto the couch. He immediately rolled himself into a giggling, quirking ball. Timothée served himself some coke and chicken he had found in the fridge, pondering what to do with Martin.

“Yer luuukin at mi. I can fiiil ya.”

“Sure I do. I´m concerned.”

Suddenly Martin sat up and his eyes turned to look more normal.

“Concerned? You seem to have ae thing for that, boi...”

“Stop calling me boy, I´m not that young.”

Martin made a face.

“How old are ye then?”

“21.”

Martin smirked and Timmy felt his body betray him again. It wasn´t that long he´s had sex, he wasn´t starving or something. He just felt... so fucking much attracted to that lost soul, he wanted him, he wanted his heart and soul, he wanted him to be sound and safe and then he wanted to love him, to make love to him, to feel him...

“Come here.”

Martin patted onto the sofa. His voice began to sound less cracking. Timothée heaved a big sigh and sat beside him. He felt the warmth of Martin radiating around him.

“Why do you care about me?”

“What? Why? I... I guess I´m just human, I can´t watch how you´re killing yourself in front of me.”

“Wooow. I´ve no desire to kill myself, I can tell ya.”

A long silence followed in which there were only their shared breaths and some shuffling noise, when Martin moved his feet around.

“What for do you take this shit then?”

“What for?”

Martin laughed, but he sounded sore and sad.

“Hmm... to forget, mostly. It makes me feel good. And don´t make me tell you all the shit I´ve been through. Been there, done that already.”

“So you´ve tried withdrawal once?”

Martin nodded.

“Yes. I was sober. 2 years actually. Then my girlfriend dumbed me.”

_Girlfriend? Didn´t he say he was gay?_

Martin saw the confused spark in Timmy´s eyes.

“Yes, girlfriend. Not really supposed to work out when you fancy guys.”

“Right...”

“So what is it with you? Or is that a French thing? Trying to save me here? Why do you care? Nobody cares about me.”

Timothée let out a deep moan of despair.

“I´m sure there are people. Or were. Anyway. And do I need a proper reason for that? Maybe I just... like you.”

Martin looked up, surprised and Timothée was pondering which shite the guy had taken. Obviously the effects already loosened up.

“You... you...?”

Martin couldn´t repeat the words. He was completely baffled. This beautiful boy liked him? Like in – really like him, not just... not just for sex, not just for his body. He could have all of him within seconds, Martin would throw himself into Timmy´s arms without hesitation, he wanted him to hold, to bury his head safe into the curve of his neck, he wanted to kiss him, to feel all of him...

“Ah shit, not again...”

Martin had gone pale from one moment to the next.

“Are you going to throw up?”

Timmy asked anxiously and already looked around for something to hold to Martin. But Martin shook his head.

“Won´t. Just... I... fuck I can´t.. You...”

And then he started to sob.

Uncontrollably.

“Ah nooo... please... don´t cry.”

Timmy gulped but then he wrapped his arms around the poor shaking figure in front of him and he felt his heart ache with emotion for Martin.

“Why... w-why do ye like me?? You don´t even know a half of me...”

Timmy shrugged his shoulders, he really didn´t know. Was there a right answer for feelings like this?

“Can´t tell really... I just... I feel for you, it´s just like that...”

He swallowed and closed his eyes for some time. Martin stayed focused, looking at him, waiting if he would continue to speak.

“Martin... what stuff was if you´ve taken this time? I don´t dare say it, but how come you seem completely sober to me right now?”

Martin chuckled and for a second his lips touched to Timmy´s throat, just pressing them lightly against his skin.

“It´s because I am.”

“Wha...? What? You´re sober? I... Martin, I don´t get it. I thought... How?”

“Because I wasn´t going there for drugs.”

Now Timothée was lost. Martin laughed at his confused face.

“That´s just some place I go to if I´m... in trouble. And there´s this pal I know. I´ve got problems with my eyesight from time to time. And he´s brought the medication with him. See that´s that. Some weird drops that do weird things to my pupils. Making me look like I´m fucking high.”

“But... you were... you...”

“What? Not able to walk and speak properly?”

Timmy nodded.

“Yeah, that´s because of the meds I´ve received. I should probably not walk home alone after treatment. Anyway...”

“What treatment?”

And then the whole story poured out of Martin.

How he had connected with his sponsor. How he had turned and not went to a well known place he could have bought drugs. How he had stopped himself from going there, knowing he was right on the verge of drowning again. How the guy – Barry, a young psychology-student, working at a place for addicts, which Martin went to often – had hurried him to visit as soon as possible. And how Martin had received treatment just this very morning.

Tim was struck.

“And... they let you leave like that? You´re not supposed to stay... in a place... I don´t know... you can just walk out? And why is that such a messy place?”

Martin threw him a look.

“What exactly do you expect from a place that had been stamped out of nothing for drug addicts? Do you think they receive money to have us in a palace, washed and shampooed? They are gracious there and that´s the only reasonable place like this all around London. When you don´t want to undergo withdrawal in a hospital. I´ve done that. There´s actually not much money for organisations like this.”

Timmy blushed under Martin´s words. For the first time he heard the part of the guy talk he had hoped to get to know better; the intelligent, heartfelt, lovely person that Martin still was.

“So you´re...”

“... on trial. Free, yes. With Barry in constant demand, if I´d need any help. And I´ve told them, there might be someone who cares about me...”

Martin cast his eyes down, hoping Timmy would understand. Timmy looked at him questioningly.

“Ah... and that being...?”

Martin breathed slowly and tilted his head, giving Timothée the look that made his insides twitch.

“That... being you. Dunno... Would you? Slap my face from time to time?”

Timothée sighed deeply.

“No... I surely won´t do that.”

Martin´s jaw dropped and instantly tears gathered in his eyes.

“N....not?”

Timothée laid a finger onto Martin´s plush lips and pulled him close with his free hand.

“Not slap you. But I´d rather do other things with you. Like this...”

And with that he touched his lips to Martin´s and it was pure bliss.

_Yes, he would stay._

_And he would care for that tiny guy._

_He would make love to him, love in a way he deserved, he would make love to him each and every day until he´d understand he deserved exactly that._

_He would love him._

And they would be happy.

_~ The End ~_


End file.
